Pardners eBook

Red, the proprietor, explained over the bar in a whisper
to Captain, the new man from Dawson: “That’s
Big George, the whaler. He’s a squaw-man
and sort of a bully—­see? When he’s
sober he’s on the level strickly, an’
we all likes him fine, but when he gets to fightin’
the pain-killer, he ain’t altogether a gentleman.
Will he fight? Oh! Will he fight?
Say! he’s there with chimes, he is! Why,
Doc Miller’s made a grub-stake rebuildin’
fellers that’s had a lingerin’ doubt cached
away about that, an’ now when he gets the booze
up his nose them patched-up guys oozes away an’
hibernates till the gas dies out in him. Afterwards
he’s sore on himself an’ apologizes to
everybody. Don’t get into no trouble with
him, cause he’s two checks past the limit.
They don’t make ’em as bad as him any
more. He busted the mould.”

George turned, and spying the new-comer, approached,
eyeing him with critical disfavour.

Captain saw a bear-like figure, clad cap-a-pie in
native fashion. Reindeer pants, with the hair
inside, clothed legs like rock pillars, while out
of the loose squirrel parka a corded neck rose, brown
and strong, above which darkly gleamed a rugged face
seamed and scarred by the hate of Arctic winters.
He had kicked off his deer-skin socks, and stood
bare-footed on the cold and draughty floor, while
the poison he had imbibed showed only in his heated
face, Silently he extended a cracked and hardened
hand, which closed like the armoured claw of a crustacean
and tightened on the crunching fingers of the other.
Captain’s expression remained unchanged and,
gradually slackening his grip, the sailor roughly
inquired:

“Where’d you come from?”

“Just got in from Dawson yesterday,” politely
responded the stranger.

“Well! what’re you goin’ to do now
you’re here?” he demanded.

“Stake some claims and go to prospecting, I
guess. You see, I wanted to get in early before
the rush next spring.”

“Oh! I ’spose you’re going
to jump some of our ground, hey? Well, you ain’t!
We don’t want no claim jumpers here,”
disagreeably continued the seaman; “we won’t
stand for it. This is my camp—­see?
I own it, and these is my little children.”
Then, as the other refused to debate with him, he
resumed, groping for a new ground of attack.

“Say! I’ll bet you’re one
of them eddicated dudes, too, ain’t you?
You talk like a feller that had been to college,”
and, as the other assented, he scornfully called to
his friends, saying “Look here, fellers!
Pipe the jellyfish! I never see one of these
here animals that was worth a cuss; they plays football
an’ smokes cigareets at school; then when they’re
weaned they come off up here an’ jump our claims
’cause we can’t write a location notice
proper. They ain’t no good. I guess
I’ll stop it.”

Captain moved toward the door, but the whaler threw
his bulky frame against it and scowlingly blocked
the way.